


You Got Me Into This

by YouHateInvisiblePie



Series: Inspired by music [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Grimmons, M/M, Temple of reproduction, Temporary Character Death, canon typical cursing, he isnt actually dead but everyone thinks he is, kind of, vegas quadrant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouHateInvisiblePie/pseuds/YouHateInvisiblePie
Summary: Perhaps he's just napping, Simmons told himself, desperately searching for an excuse, no matter how flimsy, any reason at all as to why Grif would be on the floor not moving in the middle of battle.





	1. Information Overload

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CastielsSmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsSmile/gifts).



> This was intended to be written for the angst war, and I didn't quite get around to it in time, but I still really wanted to write it.
> 
> The prompt from castielssmile was: Grimmons angst based on the end of season 13. Perhaps when they go up against Hargrove and one is falsely lead to believe the other is dead and all he can think about is how much he should have told the other how he feels... then maybe a scene from the reproduction temple activation for a happy ending.

Grif wasn't moving. Simmons was doing his best to focus on the battle that he was in the middle of, but Grif wasn't moving.

Perhaps he's just napping, Simmons told himself, desperately searching for an excuse, no matter how flimsy, any reason at all as to why Grif would be on the floor _not moving_ in the middle of battle. Anything except for what his subconscious kept telling him was the most likely option.

Grif is - no, he simply isn't allowed to be because, because... because there are things that Simmons needs to tell him. Important things.

More than anything, Simmons wants to run to the orange soldier's side, but there are at least two dozen enemies between them, and Donut is desperately trying to pull him in the other direction.

"Grif, we have to -"

"I'm so sorry Simmons, but we have to leave him. There are too many of them. We need to go. Now. Please," Donut begged. "We'll come back if we can but there's nothing we can do for him right now."

So Simmons allowed himself to be moved, and followed his teammate out of the room, leaving the body of his best friend behind.

_I never even told him I was gay_ , Simmons realized. _I wonder if he knew. Sometimes people can just tell. If he did though, then why didn't he say anything? Was he just being respectful and waiting for me to tell him in my own time or did he disapprove? What if he didn't know at all? How pathetic is that, my own best friend not knowing that about me? My best friend, did he even know that's what he was? Surely he must have. Right? I should have told him._

"I should have told him everything, and now I'll never get the chance. He was my best friend and I was in love with him, and now he'll never know," Simmons cried.

Donut stared past him at the approaching figure and had an idea. "Could you repeat that Simmons?"

Simmons, thinking that his teammate hadn't been listening as he poured out his soul, shouted. "He was my best friend and I was in love with him! I never told him either of those things and now he's dead so I'll never get the chance to tell him how I feel!"

"I thought I was your best friend, but whatever. Are you really in love with Church? He doesn't seem like he'd be your type, but I won't judge. Sarge might kill you if he finds out you're in love with a blue though."

"Grif?" Simmons' jaw dropped as he turned around to look at the orange soldier standing behind him. "Is that really you?"

"Who else would it be?"

Then, before Simmons even realized what he was doing, he had pulled off Grif's helmet, as well as his own, and kissed his best friend.

"So... it's not Church that you're in love with."


	2. Situation Lost Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif shows Simmons something cool that he found.
> 
> "You haven't even looked at it," Grif protested.  
> "I've still seen enough to know it's just a pile of junk."
> 
> Or is it?

A few days later the new couple were wandering around hand in hand when Grif remembered something that he wanted to show Simmons.

"A storage closet," Simmons said, unimpressed. "What is this, a bad attempt at seven minutes in heaven? There are more appropriate places than storage closets if you want to make out."

"More appropriate? Why Simmons, are you inviting me back to your bedroom?" Grif teased.

"No," Simons splutteted, embarrassed. "Just show me whatever is in the damned closet fatass."

"Ta da," Grif said throwing open the door with an unnecessary amount of finesse considering that it was a storage closet afterall.

"What is it?" Simmons asked looking at a pile of machinery that he thought might all go together, but he couldn't say for sure.

"It's a teleporter. Duh."

"No it's not."

"You haven't even looked at it," Grif protested.

"I've still seen enough to know it's just a pile of junk."

"No, seriously it's a -"

"Oh my god it _is_ a teleporter," Simmons gasped. "Where did you find it?"

"Right there. I wasn't going to move it. That thing looks heavy as hell. I mean it's a decent spot to nap where I'm not likely to be found, but it's not _that_ nice."

"Of course that's how you found it," Simmons grumbled.

"So can you fix it or not?"

"Why would I fix it? We don't even know where it goes."

"So fix it, we'll go through it and find out."

"We can't just go through a random teleporter," Simmons said, doing his best to sound sensible. "It could take us anywhere!"

"Exactly! If we're lucky it might even get us off this stupid planet."

"We can't just leave," Simmons protested.

"Why not?" Grif asked. "We don't owe anyone here a damned thing. We just saved the entire fucking planet. I think that earns us a break from all of this bullshit, don't you?"

"I mean, I guess, but we can't just leave everyone, our team, behind."

"Sure we can. Screw all of them. Run away with me Simmons."

"Run away with you?" Simmons raised an eyebrow. "That's it. I'm dreaming. You would never say something like that. It sounds like a line from a bad romance novel."

"Is that what you dream about Dick," Grif teased, pulling Simmons in close, "Me wooing you with romance novels?"

Simmons snorted and chuckled. "Wooing?"

Grif frowned. "You use stupid words all the time."

"Not like wooing," Simmons laughed, their faces inches apart.

So Grif shut him up with a kiss that left them both breathless.

"Fix the damn teleporter," Grif panted, "and run away with me."

"Okay."


	3. Send Out An S.O.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well I don't hear you coming up with any plans," Simmons snapped.
> 
> "Call for help. You know, like an S.O.S. or some shit."
> 
> "We're not on a boat!"

"Oh, the back of my head," Simmons groaned sitting up and realizing that he had not only been sleeping on a bench, but with his head in Grif's lap as well. "Grif, wake up," Simmons said, shaking his teammate until Grif slowly opened his eyes.

"Why are these lights so bright?"

"That's the sun dumb-ass, but you gotta help me out. It's all a blur last night. Do you know where my shoes are?"

"Your shoes? Where is your shirt?"

"What?!" Simmons shrieked, realizing that he was indeed topless as well as unshod. So he immediately covered himself as best as he could.

"I wasn't complaining," Grif chuckled. "I was enjoying the show."

Simmons rolled his eyes but refused to lower his arms.

Grif removed his jacket and draped it over Simmons' shoulders. "Better?"

"Why are you dressed up like Elvis?" Simmons asked while putting the jacket on properly.

"We need a taxi."

"Why -"

"'Cause you're hungover," Grif replied, talking over Simmons repeating his question. "And I'm broke," Grif concluded after checking all of his pockets. "Have you got anything?"

"No," Simmons replied, patting down all of his pockets as well. "Why do we need a taxi again?"

"To get back to the motel."

"If we have a motel room then why are we sleeping on a bench?"

"Umm..." Grif thought it over for a moment. "Oh right, because _you_ lost the motel key."

"Spare me you freakin' dirty looks, now don't blame me," Simmons grumbled leaning on Grif, trying to make himself more comfortable so that he could go back to sleep.

"It was your fault though," Grif argued.

"Was it?" Simmons sounded genuinely curious.

"Do you remember nothing about last night?"

"You called me a baby," Simmons huffed, annoyed at the memory.

"That was _before_ we went through the teleporter. Do you remember anything that happened _in_ the Vegas Quadrant?"

"Not really," Simmons admitted slowly. "Do you?"

"That you're a fucking lightweight."

"Anything helpful," Simmons clarified.

"That's helpful."

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is. Now I know how many drinks it takes before you'll let me run my fingers through your hair," Grif said, attempting to do just that. Simmons brushed him off though. "And that you'll only let me do it when you're drunk.

As Grif pulled his hand back, he noticed something. "Why am I wearing your class ring?"

"Did we get hitched last night?" Simmons asked, sitting up to look at Grif, eyes wide.

"Why is it fine for you to say hitched, but I can't say woo?"

Simmons chuckled.

"Shut up," Grif grumbled. "It's not funny."

"There they are!"

Both Grif and Simmons' heads turned in the direction of the shout to find a mob of elderly Elvis impersonators advancing on them.

"What the hell?"

"What did you do?"

"It could have been you." Grif argued.

"I don't think so, but I really don't want to stick around long enough to find out," Simmons said, unsteadily getting to his feet. "Come on!"

"How are going to get away when you can barely stand?"

"Well I don't hear you coming up with any plans," Simmons snapped, now attempting to pull Grif up from the bench.

"Call for help."

"What?"

"You know, like an S.O.S. or some shit."

"We're not on a boat!"

"Are you alright?" Grif asked, genuinely concerned, standing and trying to check Simmons' temperature with the back of his hand as Simmons kept trying to swat his hand away.

"You don't know what S.O.S stands for, do you?"

"Save... Our... Sorry asses?"

"That's it, I'm leaving you behind," Simmons declared, walking off.

"Wrong way hubby," Grif said, pointing in the other direction.

"You don't know where I'm going."

"Don't let them get away!"

"Return my dog!"

"I want those pants back!"

"What did you do with my cow?"

"Oh right, we were being chased," Grif sounded bored, clearly not caring any more than he had previously.

"My god they're even slower than you are," Simmons replied, turning around and heading on the direction Grif had pointed.

"Return our stuff or we shoot!" The octogenarians shouted, pointing shotguns at them.

 

"Shit! Run!" Grif shouted, grabbing hold of Simmons by the hand and putting some distance between themselves and the elderly Elvis mob. "Now would be a really good time for that S.O.S. Simmons."

"How? We left our armor on Chorus! Which I _told you_ was a bad idea. But no, you said "Dick, don't be a baby, we're _leaving_ the army. Who is going to shoot at us?"

"Just...shut...up...and...run," Grif panted.

"There! The teleporter! Quick!"

"Son of a bitch! Why does teleporting have to hurt?"

"Quick, you've got to help me destroy it," Simmons said frantically.

"Destroy it? Are you crazy?" Grif asked, appalled at the suggestion.

"We're still being chased!" Simmons reminded him.

"Oh. Right. Can't we just turn it off of something?"

"There's not an off switch."

Grif sighed before picking up one of the tools that Simmons had used to fix the teleporter and instead helped his friend destroy it.

They were still trying to catch their breath when they heard Tucker shouting for them.

"Grif! Simmons! Where the fuck did you guys go?"

The reds scrambled back into their armor that was scattered on the closet floor, just barely managing to get everything on moments before Tucker opened the door.

"And what exactly are you two doing in here?"

"Nothing," the reds replied in suspicious unison.

Tucker laughed. "Well I'm glad you guys enjoyed the temple of reproduction being activated."

"What?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter was inspired by "Waking Up In Vegas" by Katy Perry. This is also where the story and chapter titles come from.


End file.
